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Writer's pictureKeira

Learning to Trust My Body

Updated: May 30, 2020

My relationship to my body is a difficult one. To put it simply, I don’t trust it. When I was 12 years old, I was diagnosed with Celiac disease. These days, that just means that I’m the annoying Millennial White Lady who needs to know “is this dressing gluten free?” But for those first 12 years of my life before my diagnosis, it meant that I was in constant pain. I hated eating; using the bathroom was incredibly uncomfortable; and since my body couldn’t absorb the appropriate nutrients, I was weak and severely underweight. As a burgeoning tween, I hated my body so much - for the way my too-skinny limbs stuck out of my clothes, for the pain and the awkward symptoms I couldn’t discuss, for the fact that it couldn’t just be normal. Like everybody else.


I didn’t realize until I started going to therapy as an adult just how traumatic that prolonged experience was. I always felt like there was something wrong with me - and neither I nor the procession of doctors, phlebotomists, specialists, and counselors had any idea what that something was. At the end of the day, I couldn’t feel safe in my own skin, because there was an unknown, unnamed enemy inside of me. It was a constant battle between my body, my food, and the world around me. In many ways, I don’t feel like that battle is over. I still have digestive symptoms that can’t always be placed, and the first twinge of discomfort sparks a little-kid panic every time. I tense up in a way that I'm certain only makes my discomfort worse.


Now I have to find a way to trust my body with the most important thing I have ever done. In my previous post, I asked: How do I treat my body with kindness? How do I take care of it - not because I have to, but because it deserves it? Further, I have to ask: How do I trust my body to be healthy? To carry this pregnancy? My mother recommends visualizing all the parts of my body as healthy and perfect. Imagine a robust, pink stomach lining. Imagine a healthy little embryo safely nested my uterus.. My therapist recommends visualizing my body as a conduit - allow the unpleasant or scary feeling to pass through me. A pipe doesn't mind as water flows through it. Breathe deeply and feel your body and your capacity expand.

Sometimes, the way I talk about my relationship feels like it's a relationship with another person. A contentious one. When someone has hurt you over and over, trusting them to change feels difficult. Things might seem like they're improving, but even the smallest betrayal makes it feel like they're back to their old, toxic ways. Like they never really changed at all. Before we ever planned to have a child, I needed to be sure that I had a life partner and co-parent who I trusted. Someone I could trust to communicate; to carry the extra weight when it was too much for me, and let me know when they needed my help in return.

My marriage has taught me that good (happy, healthy) relationships don't just happen - they take work, and loving your partner is a daily choice. Loving my body, then, can be a daily choice. Further, the best relationship advice I have ever been given is that it should always be you and your partner against a problem - never partner vs. partner. My body and I are the most inextricable partners there are, and at the end of the day I have to believe that she's just trying to carry me through this experience.

 

Are you trying to conceive? What has helped you trust your body throughout the experience?





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